Chasing the Monsters Away
by TR-Fanfic
Summary: Set after the finale. Harm comes to the rescue of people in need and in the process witnesses something horrific!  Mac does her best to console him.


This is written to appease my pushy Israeli friend who said that I don't write enough stories. ;-) I wouldn't really call this a story, it's just a scene, but it's the best I can do on short notice and off the top of my head. I hope you like it Staz, it's not the type of story I usually write, but when this idea popped into my head, it stomped it's foot and demanded that I write it NOW! So here it is.

I don't own JAG, but if I did I'd put way better features on the DVDs.

This is unedited and unbetaed, all mistakes are my own. Honest feedback is always appreciated.

Chasing the Monsters Away

By TR

I feel my brow crease as I stare at the computer screen, trying to put the finishing touches on my closing arguments. I am thankfully, finally, wrapping up the case from hell. It's occupied the majority of my time for the last 3 months. And when it's done I'm going to take a week of leave, and sleep for 7 glorious days straight! I sigh, just thinking about it, and almost get lost in the thoughts of nothing but a soft bed and a down comforter, when the phone blares next to me. I jump, frown, who the hell is calling me at 0130? Then it hits, the weight in the belly, the erratic thump of a heartbeat that isn't mine. Not mine but his, beating in counter time with mine. A feeling I've had only twice since I've known him. HARM!

Something is very wrong. OH GOD! I pick up the phone without hesitation. "What's the matter Baby?"

His voice is an odd combination of gravely and hoarse. "I'm going to be late coming home…"

"What happened? Do I need to come…where are you?"

"NO! Don't come, I don't want you to have to see…Just don't, they wouldn't let you through the tape anyway."

"Tape? There's been an accident hasn't there? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Me? No…not me. I wasn't the one hurt…I…no it wasn't me. Just…I don't know when I'll be home. When they'll let me go home. I just gave them my statement. I just thought I should call…didn't want you to worry."

"Worry? I'm scared to death. You sound like…I don't know what…Why can't I come to you? I can get your mom to watch the baby…"

"No! I'll be home as soon as I can. Okay?"

His pleading tone touches my softer side and I know he's trying to protect me. "Okay." I say reluctantly. "But if you need anything…"

"I know, I…I don't think there's anything more you can do." His voice drops and I hear the tears behind it. "There's nothing more I could do either."

The phone goes dead, and my heart won't calm down. For 10 minutes I sit on my hands, trying not to saddle up my white horse and go galloping in to rescue him, as he has done, and would do, with me. It's only the baby sleeping in the crib in the other room, and the instinctual knowledge that my presence, wherever he is, seeing the horrific things he's seen, would make it all worse for him, that stops me. I don't want to add to his pain. That's the last thing I want to do. I just want him to be where I am, so that I can wrap my body around him, and chase the monsters away. Something tells me, I'm going to have to do a lot of monster chasing in the very near future. I instinctively strengthen my resolve, and hope that I'm strong enough to hold the pain at bay for him.

20 minutes later I hear the lock turn on the door. I'm on my feet and standing in the hall before he has time to turn the knob. When he steps through the door, I struggle not to gasp. We've been through war zones together. We've seen and heard things that turn the toughest of men into sobbing infants. And I've never seen him look like this. I step forward, hesitate, does he need me to hold him, does he need some space? I can't tell. I can't see beyond the grief, the horror, the utter shock that lingers in his eyes. He steps around me, lets me take his coat. I hang it up and shut and lock the door again. He says nothing. I follow him into the kitchen and it's only then that I get a good look at his shirt. It's covered in blood soaked from the neck to the tail. I search his face, his body, I want to ask if any of the blood is his. I feel the bile rising at the thought. He looks me in the eye, knows what I want to know. And in answer, he pulls his shirt over his head rolls it in a ball and tosses it into the garbage can. I can see there are no wounds on his chest, just the faint brownish pink of other people's blood. Some people that he, no doubt, saved. And others that will haunt him until the day he dies because he couldn't save them. That's just the man that he is. Now that I'm closer I can see it, in his hair, under his fingernails, on his palms where he no doubt tried to administer CPR. 'Oh Harm…you did what you could. I know you did everything you could.' I don't voice my thoughts, only try to find a way to somehow make things better. Slowly I take his hand and lead him through our bedroom and into the Master Bath. I don't know what all he'll need from me, but first things first. I start the shower for him, and when I turn back around he's already nude having yanked off his bloody pants, kicked off his bloody shoes, and his eyes show just a faint hint of gratitude. I inwardly sigh, progress. I shed my clothes as well, and taking his hand once more, step into the shower. I have it on as hot as it will go, knowing that he'd prefer the sting of the heat, to the pain of the memories. He stands motionless as I scrub the blood and grime out of his hair, from his body, from his hands and his knees where he knelt beside a dying human being and tried with all his might to cheat death. I don't leave one centimeter of his body untouched. Doing my best to wash away the terror, the horrifying shock of what he'd been through. We finally step out of the shower and I dry his body, now free of stench and stain and memories. He still says nothing and I don't know what else to do, but give him something warm to wear, and wait for the time to be right for him to tell me what happened. After he'd hung up the phone, before he got home, I turned on the tv. The accident was all over the news channels. An enormous loss of life for an auto accident as a bus overturned and most of the passengers were killed. When they gave the location I knew he'd been on the scene. It was right on the way home from work.

I turn to see him pulling on the fresh white T-shirt, and flannel pajama pants that I set out for him. He still says nothing, but I know he's grateful for my efforts. I just hope that whatever I'm doing is enough. I follow him out to the living room where I expect him to either start to tell me what has happened, or pick up his guitar and play through the pain. He does neither. Just sits in the corner in a chair and stares at nothing in particular on the carpet. I want to ask him if he's hungry, I want to ask him if he's comfortable, and warm enough, and to please tell me what I can do to make everything alright for him again. It hurts so much to see him in such pain, and my stomach rolls greasily at the thought. I hate this! I'm supposed to protect him…

I watch him for another ten minutes, when he doesn't move a muscle it suddenly comes to me what he needs. I stand up from my chair and walk into the nursery. I watch our 18 month old daughter sleep peacefully for a minute before I pick her up and wrap her in a blanket. She stirs, but doesn't cry. Holding her close, I make my way out to where Harm is sitting. He moves his eyes only to look at me when I put her in his lap. His big arms look huge around her tiny body, and as she slowly nuzzles her face into the warmth of his chest, he begins to cry steady, silent tears. He leans down and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. I hear him whisper, "my baby" and stroke her cheek. She opens her sleepy eyes, and studies his face, a tiny frown on her perfect little brow. He looks back, weeping, and audibly thanking God that she wasn't anywhere near the accident today. He clings to her for dear life, and she clings right back, as he whispers to her all that he's seen and heard, and what he'd tried to do to save everyone he could. When he is all cried out, and all out of words, he sings softly to her and rocks her to sleep. Lifting her, so that she can bury her face in the crook of his neck. A place she's loved to sleep since the day she was born. I can't blame her a bit, I'm quite fond of that spot myself. When she's settled in, he turns his eyes on me, and says, "Thank you."

I try to smile. "Anytime." I respond. And I hope against hope that this will be enough to chase the monsters away.

End of Scene? Good? Bad? Giardia? Let me know.


End file.
